


How Much it Mattered

by alltoowell



Category: Holby City
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:11:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltoowell/pseuds/alltoowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malick and Nathan finally meet again after eight weeks and three days of avoiding each other. But is it too late for apologies? Malick/Nathan (I can't be the only person who shipped this) -My all-too realistic interpretation of a scene the writers are determined to avoid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Much it Mattered

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I fiiinnallly wrote this because a) there is a sickening lack of Malick stories on here and b) I needed serious closure on this pairing (closure the writers are obviously never going to give me)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and this is un-betaed so yes, apologies for any mistakes. I view this to be in-character but I tend to reduce incredibly tough characters to angsty messes with ease (the main reason I have yet to write a Jac fic) so Malick characterization may be a tad grey, ha. Reviews are lovely, please do let me know what you think!

It was bound it happen sooner or later.

It was inevitable, and he had been prepared for it for weeks-no,  _months_  now. It was about time, really, and he was as ready as he would ever be.

Or at least this is what Malick was telling himself.

Nathan stood, not three feet away, but it felt like miles between them. The other man was dutifully examining Michael's patient, and if he noticed Malick had just burst into the tiny side room to ask for his consultant's opinion on another case, well, he didn't acknowledge this added presence.

Malick suddenly wished he had heeded Chantelle's warnings of waiting for Michael to finish with Mrs McCarthy before excitedly pointing out evidence of a condition he had earlier predicted upon first inspection of his patient. But no, in his hurry to prove his superior to be wrong, Malick had ignored Chantelle's protests and walked right on in.

He'd had two months to come to term with this-eight weeks and three days...not that he'd been counting. In a hospital like Holby, they were bound to bump into each other again. To be honest, Malick was surprised they had avoided the awkward reunion for so long.

"Earth to Malick?" Michael's voice, laced with sarcasm, tore Malick from his thoughts. The American stood with his arms folded, looking at the unruly registrar as though he was the biggest thorn in his side.

He swallowed hard and held the patient's notes up, his mind drawing a blank at the man's name-being close to Nathan again had  _that_  much of an effect on his brain.

Malick ducked his head as Michael flicked through the notes. He pretended not to see the occasional glances Michael would shoot him as he turned a page-as though he was waiting on Malick to say something wrong, to screw up like he had numerous times before, to make things with Nathan even worse than the hospital rumours had portrayed them to be.

And he probably would have, if he'd been able to find his voice. Instead, all he could do was nod when Michael asked him a question he hadn't been paying attention to, and hope that perhaps Nathan would take extra-long at examining Mrs McCarthy so he wouldn't turn around and Malick wouldn't have to come face to face with the man he'd betrayed.

But of course Malick did not deserve that sort of luck, and, because he was a total idiot, he lifted his head to sneak a look at Nathan in the same moment the other man finally spoke.

"You can pull your shirt down, now," he told Mrs McCarthy. Malick watched as Nathan gifted her with a reassuring smile. "We'll be able to tell you a lot more when your scan results comes back." With her files tucked under his arm, Nathan squirted his hands with the hygienic hand gel. After rubbing them together, he turned around, and slipped the files back into their place.

There was still a smile set on his face, and Malick ducked his head again . "No sign of a tumor, but given the history I'd recommend further tests," said to Michael, and Malick was too much of a coward to meet Nathan's eyes, worried of the disappointment that may be reflected there.

"I'll page you," Michael said, shooing Nathan away for what Malick imagined was the sake of Mrs McCarthy, being trapped in such a tense atmosphere.

"Good," Nathan replied, and then, without one word to Malick, he was gone.

"Everything okay?" Michael asked, in a tone that suggested even if Malick said yes, he did not believe for a second that  _anything_  was okay.

Malick forced a wide smile, but he knew it was weak from the disorientation of being in the same room as his ex again. "Great."

"Keep it that way."

Malick let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He told himself he had no right in the world to feel dissatisfied with any part of the last five minutes. If anything, he should be relieved Nathan didn't hurl a chair or a drip stand at him.

He figured he deserved that much, at least.

* * *

He'd never regretted going downstairs for a coffee before. Especially not on his break, after a stressful morning of awkward encounters and pity glances from Chantelle and Michael.

But seeing Nathan standing at the counter, chatting happily to the woman serving him his espresso, Malick found himself pressing the elevator button repeatedly.

"Not trying to avoid me, are you?"

Nathan's voice made something lurch inside Malick's chest. With some reluctance, he turned around to face the man he had once imagined would be a part of his future.

He gave a smile that was sure to be shaky. "I didn't see you there."

Nathan just smiled again, and that tightening in Malick's chest continued. "Do you have a few minutes?" He held up his espresso. "We could talk?"

Malick swallowed. "Uh, sure." Before the agreement was even out of his mouth, Malick was wanting to take it back.  _Stop being an idiot_ , the rational part of his brain argued. _This is Nathan. Anything he says to you is exactly what you deserve._

As though he was being controlled by someone else, Malick quickly paid for his coffee and sat down across from Nathan at a table by the entrance. It was a small comfort knowing the elevator was only a stone throw away if he needed to make his escape.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other. "Your hair's grown," Malick blurted out.

It was a subtle difference, one Malick only noticed because he'd spent so many nights running his hands across soft hair, always kept tight.

Nathan had let Malick cut it for him once. He'd sat, in Malick's kitchen, laughing so hard he couldn't sit still as Malick struggled with working the electric razor.

Now, Malick couldn't help but wonder if Nathan even remembered, or if he'd wisely erased every memory of Malick from his mind weeks ago.

"Has it?" Nathan said, taking a sip of espresso.

 _I could cut it for you._  Malick bit his tongue to keep his desperate offer from being voiced.

"Listen, Antoine, about earlier," Nathan began, and he looked nowhere as uncomfortable with all of this as Malick expected him to be. Was this a good sign?

Maybe he'd realised that Dominic hadn't meant a thing to Malick in comparison with what they had; maybe he'd decided Malick deserved another chance, after all; maybe some time apart had opened Nathan's eyes to see that Malick hadn't meant to ruin their relationship by confessing his infidelities in court, but that it had been the only way of clearing his conscience. Maybe he'd even come to forgive Malick, to understand... to even  _respect_  him for having the guts to finally take responsibility for his actions.

"I shouldn't have ignored you." Wait, was  _Nathan_  apologising?  _Seriously_? Why wasn't he yelling? "It was...childish of me. To be honest, I didn't know what to say."

"Me neither," Malick admitted. Another painfully silent moment passed, and he'd never imagined being with Nathan would be awkward. "I still don't."

Nathan laughed, but Malick could tell it was a little forced. He was nervous too, perhaps.

Determined not to allow the conversation to lapse into silence yet again, Malick swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and finally looked up to meet Nathan's eye.

"I called," he said, the words tasting like regret on his tongue. It was true- he  _had_  called Nathan. But nowhere near as much as he should have, and they both knew it.

He had planned to show up at Nathan's doorstep the night after the hearing. He would beg and plead and apologise until the other man gave in and took him back.

Work served as an excuse when really it had been pride and shame that prevented Malick from really making an effort to make things right between them. Still, the fact that Nathan was even still talking to him might mean it wasn't too late.

"I know," Nathan replied. "I didn't really want to talk."

He didn't have to say:  _to you_  for Malick to hear the words.

"Look I-" Malick stopped, the words caught in his throat. He'd never been good with apologies. But this was one he couldn't avoid. If there had ever been a time to swallow his pride, this was it. "I'm sorry."

Nathan nodded. "I appreciate that."

"What I did, it was inexcusable, and you're completely right for ignoring me-"

Nathan leaned back in his chair. "I know."

"-and I understand why you didn't answer my calls. I deserved that.

"Yes, you did."

"Nate, I never meant for any of this-"

"-I loved you," Nathan said, voice hitching, startling words making Malick go still.

He couldn't tear his stare away from the brown eyes that met his. For the first time since they'd sat down, he caught a glimpse of just how much he had hurt Nathan, just how deep the damage was.

"I shouldn't have said that," Nathan looked back down at his coffee, breaking whatever spell was between them. "Forget I said that."

 _I loved you too,_  Malick wanted to cry out.  _I still do. I never stopped._

"I didn't think you'd want to be around me after...everything," Malick said, forcing a grin.

Nathan still didn't look up. "We work at the same hospital. We couldn't avoid each other forever."

"Exactly. I've been thinking a lot lately, about us, and you know-"

"-Me too," Nathan cut him off. "Antoine, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Malick felt his heart begin to settle back into it's typical rhythm. Why had he been so worried? Nathan had missed him just as much as he'd missed Nathan.

He'd thought he would have to suggest they get back together, but it sounded like Nathan wanted to be the one to do it. Because he knew Malick well enough to know that he would be uncomfortable making the first step.

He was always better with words. Malick decided it was best to let him go with it.

"I thought...at first, I didn't want to talk to you. I was angry. But now...after seeing you this morning..." Nathan trailed off, looking at the floor, the wall, the familiar nurse by the vending machine-anywhere, really, that wasn't Malick. Malick found himself smiling. He'd forgotten how cute Nathan was on those rare occasions when he was flustered.

"I didn't want you to hear about it through the grapevine. I-I'm seeing someone."

Wait,  _what_?

No.

No way.

Malick couldn't help it, he laughed- part disbelieving, part nervous. "You're kidding."

Nathan shook his head. Malick had expected him to be angry that he'd laughed, but instead, Nathan just looked...regretful. Like he was... _pitying_  the other man.

Malick's confusion quickly turned to anger. "It's only been eight weeks and three days and you've already moved on?"

Nathan looked a little shocked, like he hadn't expected Malick's frustration. "You-you've been counting?"

 _You haven't_? Malick wanted to roar, but instead, he curled his hands into fists, trying to control his temper. A task which had never been his strong suit. "How could you just...with someone else...after..."

"After you cheated on me with your F1?" Nathan's voice was cold, resentful, like Malick had expected all along. Somehow, being prepared for it did not mean it hurt any less. "You can't honestly be angry that I moved on, after the stunt you pulled."

He was right, of course. He usually was. That didn't make it easier for Malick, though. "Do I know him?"

Nathan rolled his eyes. "It hardly matters-"

"Who?" Malick repeated, his breathing heavy as he tried to keep from punching a hole in the nearest wall.

"You don't know him. He works on peds. He's only here temporarily while Dr Pearson's on Maternity leave."

"Why are you telling me this?" Malick demanded, even though he was already convinced of the answer:  _to hurt you, like you hurt me_.

"Because I didn't want you to find out from someone else."

"Bullshit!" Said too loudly, and people around them had begun to stare.

Malick didn't give a shit.

"Because, like I said, I loved you," Nathan replied. He reached forward, and touched his hand to Malick's fist, before realising what he was doing and drawing back in haste. "Even if I'm still angry at you...even if I haven't forgiven you yet, for what you did...well, I don't want to regret my part in how we ended. I loved you once, and I owe it to myself to finally give this thing some closure."

 _Closure_? What about what this was doing to Malick?

"So that's it then, is it? You just move on, forget we ever happened? You get on with your life and pretend that what we had didn't matter?"

Nathan shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. You know how much it mattered to me."

 _But you don't know how much it mattered to me,_  Malick thought.

_Because I never told you._

He felt like he'd had the air sucked out of him. He deflated, uncurling his first and relaxing back against his chair. He couldn't blame Nathan for moving on. He deserved better than Malick, anyway. Malick had known, the entire time they were together, that Nathan was ten times the boyfriend he would ever be.

A fact that just might have contributed to his stupid mistake with Dominic.

Maybe his subconscious decided to ruin things before Nathan got the chance to beat him to it. All he ever did was screw up, everybody knew that. And everybody also knew Nathan was way out of Malick's league. It was a wonder the relationship lasted as long as it had, really.

"Is he-are you happy?"

Nathan didn't say anything for a minute. Then, slowly, he looked up and nodded. "I think so."

Tears absolutely did  _not_  sting in Malick's eyes and his throat absolutely did  _not_  tighten and his hands most certainly did  _not_  shake-because he was The Malick, and The Malick did not cry.

Not even when he was losing the best thing to ever happen to him.

"Good," he nodded, but he felt dazed, dizzy, dehydrated. "I'm glad." These words shouldn't have made him feel like a liar, but they did.

He  _did_  want Nathan to be happy-but with  _him_.

A loud beep made the other man jump, but Malick was too numb to really register it. "I should go. I'm needed back on the ward."

Malick nodded, a weak smile back in place. "Right. Me too."

They both stood-and it surprised Malick he even had the strength to do so, considering his legs felt like jelly-and awkwardly, Nathan looked at the space between them. Was he questioning how this had happened? Was he considering crossing it? Was he thanking God for his lucky escape?

"I'll see you around, Antoine," he said softly.

"Yeah," Malick replied, the only thing he could manage to say. "Sure."

Nodding once more, Nathan walked away slowly. Malick couldn't help but wonder if he was waiting to be called back, to be chased after. But then what would Malick say? There was only so much an apology could achieve; he figured this was one wound that was above his limited level of healing.

So he stood there, hands at his sides, until he saw Nathan disappear into the elevator. He pretended not to notice how Nathan stared at him until the doors finally closed.

He stood in that spot for a little while longer, ignoring the incessant beeping from his own pager. He stood until the tears in his eyes were firmly blinked away. He wanted to stand there until he could smile again and not feel like a fake, but he had patients to help and Michael Spence to argue with and a world around him that didn't stop simply because he felt like he'd been punched in the chest and it was all his fault.

Finally, he picked up his pager and headed for the elevator.

He'd made his mistakes-and he deserved to live with them.


End file.
